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Sometimes the pressure of being themself got unbearable. Jordan had sort of expected to feel that less, once he'd gotten it better settled with himself as to what himself meant. But he still needed time alone, time away, time to take the masks off and just move quietly through the world, and jogging made an excellent excuse to do so daily. They were strong enough these days that they didn't feel particularly concerned about encountering something or somethings in the town, and so, often enough, he ran between the decaying houses and buildings, tracing a solitary path through a life-sized maze.

Exercise felt good, and he liked the sun on his neck and arms and the wind on his face. He preferred to wear old pants and ratty t-shirts for running, in part because they were loose and comfortable, in part because then he didn't have to worry about getting them gross or dirty. It was warm enough today that he'd taken the shirt off halfway through the route he'd chosen and tucked it into the waistband of his sweatpants, exposing his tattoos and scars. He wanted another tattoo, he thought, and passed the thought to Ferros, who turned it over a few times in his mind and passed it back with the mental equivalent of a noncommittal hum, neither enthusiasm nor disapproval. The weapon was the one responsible for healing when they did that, but it was a relatively minor injury, a minor pain, and physical pain had long since ceased to mean much. He'd do it next time he took leave on his own, they decided.

The yell startled them, adrenaline kicking minds and body into high alert. They couldn't see or hear any immediate threat, but that didn't mean there was none; though Jordan didn't summon Ferros yet, he sprinted toward the source of the sound. When he rounded the corner and saw someone flat on her back, he skidded to a stop a wary distance away and called out, "Were you attacked? Where is it?"

"Oh," Jordan said, and relaxed, going from a tense, nervous-cat readiness to standing up straight again. He stretched and pushed his hair back. "s**t, what am I gonna do with all this adrenaline?" He didn't sound very put out, though. "Sorry to interrupt solitary tantrum time. Reflexes. Hearing yelling this far out is unusual, is all."

Jordan paused for a moment, shrugged and padded over to sit down nearby, then flopped back against the dirt. He already needed a shower. A little extra dust was negligible. "Some kind of hippie thing? Grounding and earthing and, I don't know, crystals?" he asked, his tone hovering in that zone where it could be interpreted as sarcasm or sincerity, however one chose to take it.

He laced his fingers over his chest and wiggled a bit to get comfortable, basking in the sunshine like a contented lizard. "I was doing the running thing," he pointed out. "Gets less like work if you keep doing it. Endorphins are pretty magical."

"Not under the island, that I know of. Fell into a sarlacc pit in the Sahara once," Jordan said, and carefully didn't think about what had happened there and immediately afterward. "None of the Dune type sandworms though. Or are you talking Tremors? I haven't seen any yet, anyway, but not ruling it out entirely."

He stretched his legs and toed his sneakers off so that he could stretch his toes better inside his socks. "I do that too. Sun division," he explained, "heavy-class weapon, gotta be in good enough shape to swing him around."

Jordan snorted, grinning at the look on her face. "Pretty much anything humans have thought up that's scary, we might see out there sometime. So, you know, not ruling anything out. Both, probably, in some corner of the world."

"Never seen power fists before," he said, sounding interested. "Infinite variation or something. Ferros is a giant warhammer." He held his right hand up to display the heavy ring with its red stone. "This is Ferros." The ring's stone lit briefly from within, the flicker almost invisible in the sunlight but still present.

Ferros voiced a laughing thought, and Jordan chuckled. "Hell, where are my manners, I haven't introduced myself. Jordan Miller, sun division."

"There are more things under heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy." Jordan grinned up at the sky. He wasn't about to go into the circumstances around his decision to become a hunter, but the new fields of knowledge available to him had been an excellent bonus.

"Nice to meet you too, Sam," Jordan said politely. Ferros grumbled at the comment about his size, but they decided that the objection didn't need to be voiced, not now. Their handshake was firm and confident.

"Yeah, probably. I think I replied to something you said the other day, even," he answered.

"That counts, different types of memory but it counts," Jordan agreed solemnly.

He sat up, leaning back on his hands. "I don't know about normal, as such," he said. "But you do get sort of used to it after it happens a few times. I have memories of -- " he paused, thought about it for a moment, " -- three other versions of me, some stronger and clearer than others." He tilted his head to the side slightly. "I guess more of me than just me is pretty accurate," he mused. "In a literal sense, there are."